Screen Test
by namelesspanda
Summary: Modern AU where Downton Films, Inc. is producing a new project headed up by Violet Crawley and starring her granddaughter Mary. Drama ensues when they attempt to cast the male lead. One-shot...probably.


_A/N: Mary Crawley's career as an actress is about to begin in the latest film from her grandmother Violet, an acclaimed director. The project is a romantic comedy, centred on the captivating Jennie…and her counterpart, James, who is not yet cast. _

_**NB: NOT intended as MD/DS. If you want to interpret it that way, that's up to you, I guess.**_

* * *

**Screen Test**

Violet Crawley's office was a museum, in its own way. Award after award was pinned to the walls; images of her in the youth of her acting career adorned the space that wasn't taken by her trophies. These collections gave the building a musty smell that blended ever so slightly with the corporate smell of air freshener.

Even more impressive than the ostentatious display of prizes was the history of the place—it was defined by small moments, not particularly well-known but nevertheless meaningful. For example, Violet had created a television show that had been hailed as a masterpiece while taking an afternoon nap in her office. And when her granddaughter had been ten, she'd watched as Granny reduced one of the nation's most prestigious actors to tears with a few biting words.

As a result of her stellar career, Violet's schedule was so crowded and uncomfortably busy that on occasion, she didn't even have time for the moderately influential visitors—namely, family. Today was one of those days.

"Mary Crawley?" A tall man, clad in a suit that had to be nearly as expensive as the actress' shoes, appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. "Here for the screen test?"

"That's right." She gave him a tight smile. "Who is it today?"

"William is filming, and you're being tested with an Evelyn Napier," the man replied as he held open the door for her. "Here's his file."

Mary glanced over the actor's credentials…an acting course, some Shakespearean theatre, and—

"Is he any relation to the Branksome Napiers?" she asked, passing the folder back to the assistant.

"Direct relation," the man said. "His mother was—"

"Good." A lamp hanging from the wall highlighted Mary's eyes, and the assistant could see that they were almost eerily calm.

"Here we are," he announced, opening a small door that led into an almost tiny studio, which smelled of industrial equipment and…smoke, oddly enough.

"Mr. Napier!" Mary exclaimed, extending her hand to the shaking young man who had been pacing nervously around the room. "How has your family been?"

"Mother's been…she's been on my case, about getting a film out," Evelyn admitted, rolling his eyes. It was clearly the start of a long monologue, so the assistant cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry to say that we're in a bit of a hurry today," he said, as he gave a nod to the cameraman. "William, are you ready?"

"We'll get right to work, Mr. Thompson," William promised, taking his position behind the lens. "Are you two ready?"

"Of course," Mary replied calmly, tossing her purse onto a table. She'd been ready for weeks, actually. (It had taken Granny a while to find someone who was deemed suitable even just for a screen test.)

"As ready as I'll ever be," said Evelyn.

The pair took their places in front of the blue backdrop. "Rolling," William said.

"_Takeaway again."_ Mary gave a small sigh as she began the scene, arranging her face into a scrunched-up expression of annoyance. Her character, Jennie, frowned.

"_Takeaway is my life, don't make fun,"_ Evelyn said in a dull voice, his hands twitching in a stiff gesture.

"_You sound like my sister."_ She pretended to suppress a smile. Waiting for him to deliver his next line, she tapped her foot.

But the next line didn't come. Evelyn frowned in concentration, his brow furrowed as he struggled to remember the next sentence.

Jesus, Mary thought, if every single actor that Granny had called back was anything like this one—well, it was going to be a long while before they would actually cast someone.

* * *

**Screen Test—Take Two**

"What's this one's name?"

The assistant (a different one this time, a woman) passed her a thick folder. "Duke Crowborough."

Mary gave a disgusted snort. "You can't be serious."

"I think it's his stage name," the woman said quickly.

"I wondered," she said, her voice reeking of sarcasm as she perused the notes, which Violet's team had compiled. "Not an awful background, though."

Duke Crowborough, it turned out, was far more attracted to Violet's executive assistant, Thomas, than he was to Mary—a fact that became evident as soon as they started filming.

"_Takeaway again,_" Mary sighed.

"_Takeaway is my life…"_ He cast a glance toward Thomas, who was sitting in the corner of the room, lazily chewing on the end of a cigarette. "_I particularly like the people who hand it to you. Not always the nicest people, but…I like them anyway."_

Mary gaped at him. Off-script? During a screen test, to flirt with someone in the back of the room. Well, that was brash. And very, very stupid.

"_Do you?_" It was the best she could manage. Really, there was no need for him to—

"_Yes…quite a lot."_ He gazed meaningfully at Thomas.

"_Erm…my sister likes them too. She's actually gotten her heart broken by one of—"_

"_Was he interested in someone else?"_

Mary's mouth dropped open. This was reaching beyond ridiculous. "_I—"_

"_Probably. You see—sometimes…you'll never know where your heart will take you."_ Crowborough cast a smoldering glance in the direction of Thomas, which did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room.

Mary did not take well to being ignored. She put on her best smile and snapped, "_To hell?"_

* * *

**Screen Test—Take Three**

"Who did Granny find now? Honestly, part of me thinks she finds it funny to torture me."

"Here," said the assistant, handing her yet another folder.

"Relative? Distant, I hope," Mary said, gnashing her teeth together in frustration as she glanced over his background—next to nothing, except a university degree. He was halfway through his law courses, and the notes seemed to suggest that he needed to make money to complete the academics. So acting wasn't even his career of choice. Yes, Granny was definitely playing one of her jokes.

"_Very_ distant," the assistant informed her.

"Why would she call him back?" Mary looked over the file again—nothing particularly special, or even remotely interesting.

"Lucky audition, I guess." The woman turned pink and giggled. "He's easy on the eyes, too."

Mary huffed derisively. Blue eyes, blond hair, passable face. Overrated. "Not all that handsome," she said, snapping the folder shut and passing it back to the woman. "Thank you, Lucy."

"Certainly," said the assistant, her cheeks still flushed as she ushered Mary through the door.

William looked up from cleaning one of the camera lenses. "Hello again," he said cheerfully.

"Hello, William," Mary replied, her gaze sweeping the otherwise deserted room. "Well? Is he here, or did he decide to miss the screen test?"

"He called the office to say he'd be a bit late," William said, scrubbing away at a fleck of dirt. "But he should be here pretty soon."

"Thank you." She dropped into a chair and pulled out her mobile, opening the script to look over her lines—though she certainly had them memorized by now, it couldn't hurt. How _dare_ he not even show up on time? This felt worse than being stood up for a date—he couldn't be bothered to take this film seriously, the film that would make or break her career? It was unprofessional, too—Granny had always told her, from when she was a young girl until…well…the present, that there was no such thing as "fashionably late". Mary had to agree.

"Sorry I'm late," called a harried voice as the door creaked open. "I had an exam run long, so sorry—"

Mary coughed delicately to suppress a scathing snort.

"—so…should we…" The new voice trailed off, and its owner seemed to collect himself before daring to speak again. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm—"

"We should start," she said shortly, discarding her purse and rising to her feet without so much as looking at him. Her heels clicked on the echoing floor. "I don't suppose you know how a screen test works, with a background like yours?"

"Of course I know how it works," the man retorted. His vivid gaze searched her face indignantly. She stared back, undeterred.

"Well, then," she said, trying to keep her tone bright. "We can start. Good. William?"

"Ready when you are," the cameraman answered.

"Go," Mary said, without checking with the other actor.

"Rolling."

She breathed in and erased the disdain from her stare. "_Takeaway again."_

"_Takeaway is my life,"_ he countered, with a little smile. He was settling right in, his countenance already friendly, jovial.

"_You sound like my sister."_

"_I really hope my voice isn't that high." _

Without thinking, she smacked his arm. The combination of the awful line written into the script and his exasperating smirk was enough to irk her. "_Don't make fun!"_

He tried to recover from the surprise of her going off-script. "_I wasn't,_" he improvised lamely, trying to compensate for it by raising his eyebrows in a gesture of helplessness.

"_Sure you weren't_," she muttered.

"_I'd never make fun of your sister, Jennie."_

"_I'm allowed to say nasty things about her behind her back. You aren't."_

He made no reply. She was positively itching to smack him again, in the face this time, and wipe that cheerful expression from his features. Instead, she plastered on a bemused smile and folded her arms, waiting.

"_Jen, aren't you supposed to be helping her?"_ he said finally.

She wanted to tell him to shut up and let her finish the scene with a perfectly improvised soliloquy. She wished she could monopolize the take and force him into the background. But she fought off the urge. _"I suck at giving advice,"_ she said instead.

"_No, you don't."_

"_James…"_

"_You're—you're her older sister," _he stuttered out. Truthfully, he hadn't the slightest idea of what he was saying. "_You've got to know something she doesn't."_

"_Like what? How to clean up after a dog after it goes to the loo in the middle of the Tube station?"_ she said snappishly. She was internally seething now; he couldn't come up with anything interesting to save his life, could he? It took all of her years of training to suppress the angry wave of heat that threatened to rise to her cheeks.

When William cut the camera at two minutes, Mary allowed her face lapse into its true expression—one of pure contempt.

The man looked completely taken aback at that. "Brilliant job, really," he said, as she silently gathered her things, still fuming at his poor improvisation skills. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't exactly give a speech, but I thought what you did was just…well, brilliant—"

Mary almost choked on an irascible sigh. "Pleasure to meet you, Matthew Crawley," she called over her shoulder as she stalked away, not meaning a word of it.

* * *

**Screen Test—Take Four**

Kemal Pamuk was an alluring man, tall with voluptuous hair and an equally sultry voice. He didn't stick to the script either.

"_Takeaway again,"_ Mary said, hating the words as she said them. They were so tired, so old now.

Kemal reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Well—blatant, but bold, Mary thought with a smile as a genuine shiver ran up her spine.

"_Well," _she said in a near whisper, meeting his flaming gaze with a slightly wicked stare.

"_Heartless, sometimes."_ His voice was barely above a murmur.

"_I like heartless men,"_ she replied.

"_I meant you."_

"_Was that a compliment?"_

Kemal paused, his fingers still twirling in her hair. "_Maybe."_

* * *

"I've cast your counterpart," Violet said from where she was seated at her vast desk, sipping a cup of tea.

"Really?" Mary folded her hands nervously. "As long as you didn't cast that nightmare Manchester amateur, then—"

"Honestly, my dear, there's no need to be so dramatic," Violet admonished, as she broke into a box of biscuits. With the click of a button, a still from the first screen test appeared on the far wall of her office. "What do you see here, Mary?"

"He was a bit dull," Mary admitted, "but he was—"

"No, no, stop right there," Violet said imperiously. "You're right, he's tedious to hear and painful to watch. He says his lines like they're too much for his shriveled brain to handle."

"Then why did you call him back?"

"His mother insisted, and Cornelia and I are old friends," Violet answered with an irritated sigh. "Obviously, I wasn't going to cast him. Now, does this look familiar?"

Even Mary had to laugh at the next image. Duke Crowborough was staring lustfully off into the distance, while she stood primly next to him with a disgruntled glint in her eye.

"My career would be ruined if I chose him," Violet said simply. "On to the third screen test."

_Click._ The next picture showed a blond-haired man with a bright gaze and equally undimmed smile. "_This,_" Violet proclaimed, "is more like it."

"Honestly, Granny—"

"After the first two performances, this was spectacular," Violet said. "I wanted one more to prove to myself that its brilliance wasn't relative."

"So you brought in Kemal Pamuk," Mary finished, eyes wide in disbelief. "But Granny, Kemal was the best one of the lot—"

"Should I play it back?" Violet's frown was more severe than the most unforgiving gusts of wind. "I don't want sensual romance in every scene. I want friendship. I want bonding. There wasn't any room left in his screen test for anything but overdone gazing and"—she shuddered—"shameless thoughts of groping."

"But Granny, you wouldn't cast…"

"Yes. I would." Violet squared her shoulders. "I did."

Mary's mouth fell open. "You're joking."

"Do I ever joke?"

"I thought that the lot of them were a joke."

"Well, it _was_ funny," Violet conceded, with a haughty chuckle. "But if you've seen the tapes the way I did—"

"I don't know what light you saw them in, but I don't think you'll ever get me to agree."

"You'll have to." With a grim smile, Violet pressed the button again, pulling up another picture.

Mary sighed and closed her eyes.

"This won't do, my dear. If this film is going to succeed, you'll need to pull yourself together."

"But—"

"It's true that your actions just as important when the camera is off," Violet said.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes. It does." And with that, Violet struck the tip of her cane into the floor with a bang and rose, leaving her granddaughter alone to contemplate the photograph.

On the wall opposite, frozen in time, Mary Crawley wrinkled her nose in revulsion while the fair-haired man next to her wore the earnestly besotted expression of a shunned puppy.


End file.
